"He simply didn't care that my pacemaker malfunctioned...and he didn't like me persisting to find the problem and seek a solution."It's almost other-worldly, recalling some of the medical messes I've been in. I was telling a friend the other night about the cardiologist (Dr. M, practicing in Cumberland, Maryland) who told me, in the early 1990s, "Nancy, there's nothing wrong with your heart. It's all in your head. You're crazy."
Dr. M was my cardiologist at the time -- 1985 to 1993 -- and I was pushing him to get to the bottom of my troubles with my pacemaker, which wasn't functioning properly. In fact, I'd been symptomatic since 1985, when the lead on my original pacer -- a Cordis brand implanted at
Dr. M initially impressed me. When I was in the ICU, on a temporary pacer, in critical, unstable condition, awaiting surgery the next day, he seemed interested, knowledgeable, capable. However, time would prove that I would try far too hard for far too long to seek proficiency and professionalism from Dr. M. He simply didn't care that my pacemaker malfunctioned; he didn’t want to get to the bottom of it; and he didn't like me persisting to find the problem and seek a solution.
Finding problems meant placing fault, something Dr. M apparently didn't want to accept. Furthermore, the ability (or motivation?) to find solutions would prove impossible for those on the 'team' that included my none-too-swift family doctor, along with the hapless pacer clinic staff (the turmoil of the situation truly saddened the director) and the commiserating Medtronic representatives.
Dr. P did the first faulty implant in 1985. This pacemaker was a dual-chamber variable rate, my first of that type; my previous pacers were steady rate, set at 70 beats per minute. Dr. M decided to set the new pacer to reach a maximum activity rate of 110, with a resting rate of 60. However, with the leads not attached to my heart tissue, when the activity rate reached 110, then the pacer responded by dropping the rate immediately to the lowest level, 60 bpm.
In aerobics class, which I had done comfortably for years, suddenly now I had to stop and hang onto a windowsill, trying to catch my breath and stay on my feet. Neither did I have stamina anymore to do cross-country skiing, another activity I had enjoyed for years. Tiredness and lack of energy, problems previously resolved by my heart surgery in 1972, now became commonplace again. That sense of dragging all the time became depressing; I remember commenting to a friend that I couldn't be sure if the tiredness caused the depression, or if the depression caused the tiredness. It seemed a vicious cycle for me. Of course, now I know that depression was not the problem.
And of course, Dr. M found nothing wrong with the pacer; he insisted that the problem was in my head. So I pressed on, half believing him, and figuring that if something were wrong with this pacemaker, then the problem would go away when the next one were implanted.
In 1993, Dr. P implanted another new Medtronic pacer and new leads, because the old leads tested weak. So I thought, "Great. This new pacer should be the answer. Things will be better now." Not so. Soon, a new symptom arose: I was losing consciousness getting out of bed in the morning.
What a fiasco I had to deal with next.
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